


a consummation devoutly to be wished

by Singofsolace



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: After everything that happened with the Dark Lord and Faustus Blackwood, Zelda has trouble sleeping in her bed at the Academy. Mambo Marie offers to help, in whatever way she can.Hurt/Comfort in its purest form. Inspired by a tumblr prompt.
Relationships: Marie LaFleur (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)/Zelda Spellman
Comments: 15
Kudos: 39





	a consummation devoutly to be wished

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Mambo Marie is *actually* Mambo Marie, not Baron Samedi. I reject canon. The Part Four reveal never happened.

Zelda had been staring into the fireplace for hours, and was nearly down to her last cigarette, when she heard Marie shift in the bed. Zelda’s ears perked up, straining to hear without turning to look, as her companion mumbled something in French before snuggling into the side of the bed that she had long since abandoned.

Zelda had given up on sleep relatively early in the night. She'd nearly drifted off once, but the delicious weight of Marie’s leg hooked between her own had morphed into something heavy and uncomfortable. It’d taken all of her self-control to remain calm and gentle as she untangled their bodies, knowing Marie wasn’t to blame for her discomfort, but rather the sense-memory of her marital bed.

In the weeks since their first enchanting kiss, she’d spent many a day and night in pure ecstasy, blissfully entangled, but she usually insisted they have their… relations… in the office, or in various unused classrooms, or the library, or even, once, when overwhelming desire stopped them in their tracks, up against a wall in a particularly indiscreet corridor. If Marie found it odd that Zelda never suggested a more comfortable location for their trysts, she never said anything.

Truly, Zelda hardly thought there was cause for complaint, as she always ensured Marie was thoroughly satisfied, regardless of the location of their liaisons.

But this night had felt… special. Hilda had made them oysters, acorns, and marsala. There was wine and candles and romantic music playing on the phonograph. Everything felt light and warm and safe. So, when Marie suggested they relocate their affections from the office to the bedroom, Zelda had been less opposed than she might’ve been otherwise.

She was almost able to forget the phantom shadow of the Dark Lord over her shoulder as she worshipped Marie’s body. And when Marie peeled off her kimono, Zelda firmly pushed away the memory of Faustus making her wear that stupid floral dress even as he ordered her onto all fours. And then, when Marie laced their fingers together, she could very nearly forget how she lowered herself onto her knees at the foot of the bed on her wedding eve and waited to be…claimed.

Once they had thoroughly sated each other, Marie had drifted off to sleep, while Zelda had remained wide awake, suddenly hyper aware of the room once more, with nothing to distract her from it. 

If it was torture to be under the Caligari spell in Rome, it was torment unlike any other to be fully in control of her body, but have to pretend that she wasn’t. Faustus felt she deserved a carnal reward for killing Leviathan. It was hard to remain a doll when he was rutting away on top of her. She had to control her every muscle, her every expression, desperate not to let the façade drop for even a moment.

Zelda stared into the dying fire, glad that Marie, at the very least, seemed to be sleeping well. But as for her? The room felt haunted. She could still hear his whispered commands, the fake, high-pitched, breathy moans she’d let out upon each thrust of his body into her own, and the _slap slap slap_ of—

Zelda leapt from her seat, needing to be rid of the unwanted images flashing across her mind’s eye. She paced in front of the dying fire, her fingers trembling as she took a long drag from her cigarette. She needed a drink—or three.

As she poured herself a generous measure of whiskey, Zelda’s soul nearly separated from her body when two strong arms unexpectedly wrapped around her waist from behind.

"What are you doing up at this hour, _chérie_?" Marie purred into her neck. “Come back to bed.”

Zelda leaned back into Marie’s embrace, trying to calm her racing heart by focusing on the way Marie’s curves against her back felt nothing like the hard planes of Faustus’s chest and stomach.

“You know I have terrible insomnia,” Zelda said, her voice strained, even to her own ears.

Marie peppered kisses on Zelda’s neck. “ _Oui_ , but you cannot live without sleep, _n’est-ce pas_? And I am, how you say… _cold_ without you.”

Zelda sighed, feeling something flutter in her stomach as Marie’s hands began to wander. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to be… _cold,_ now would I?”

At this, Marie’s hands stopped. While Zelda had tried to keep her tone light and teasing, it would appear that she had failed. Marie pulled on her hips to turn Zelda around so that they could face one another.

“I do not wish you to do something, if you do not desire it yourself, c _hérie_ ,” she said, her brown eyes warm but filled with concern. “Won’t you tell me what drives sleep away from you? What has you pacing and drinking in the night?”

Marie brushed a lock of hair out of Zelda’s eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Zelda leaned into the touch, her eyes slipping closed for a moment as Marie then leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead.

“Your spirit is troubled. _Tanpri,_ tell me what you need?”

Zelda opened her eyes, taking in Marie’s earnest expression with no small amount of guilt. She never intended to hurt Marie by keeping her secrets so close to her chest. In fact, she’d thought that she was protecting her from them… but it would seem the time had come for the truth to out.

“I have nightmares,” Zelda breathed, coughing slightly on the cigarette smoke that lingered in her lungs. Turning away from Marie, she stubbed her cigarette out on the ash tray next to the whiskey decanter. “They’re… hideous things. I feel trapped inside them. I would rather spend my nights in a drunken stupor than… entombed in my worst memories.”

Zelda reached for the decanter to give her something else to do with her hands. Marie remained silent, but Zelda could feel the woman hovering behind her, a beacon of silent support.

As she lifted the drink to her lips, Zelda said, “I told you, didn't I, that I was married not too long ago?”

Marie made a displeased sound in the back of her throat before she said, “ _Oui_. I have gathered from you and the others that this was not a happy time for you, _mon coeur._ You do not need to tell me what he did to you. All cruel men are cut from the same cloth. I can imagine.”

“But that’s just it,” Zelda said before draining her glass and slamming it back down onto the table. Her throat burned, but she hardly felt it as she turned back around to face Marie. The Vodou Priestess had her hands held aloft in front of her, as if she wanted to reach out to hold her, but was stopping herself. “I don’t _want_ you to imagine it. I want this—us—to be free of that sort of… darkness.”

“The darkness is a part of you, _chérie_ ,” Marie said, her voice soft. “I do not want you to feel as though you must hide yourself from me.”

At this, Marie’s hands unconsciously moved to pull her robe closer about her body, as if she really did have a chill. The robe was a blue satin slip of a thing, with nothing underneath. Perhaps Marie wasn’t joking when she said she was cold without Zelda’s body heat in the bed.

“But I don’t want him to…” Zelda broke off, unsure where her sentence was going. Her eyes flickered about the room, not knowing where to land. She finally settled on Marie’s hair, which was wrapped in a matching blue satin bonnet for bed. “I don’t want him to touch this. He’s touched everything else in my life. Everything… but you.”

Zelda’s voice cracked as she ran a frustrated hand through her red curls. The alcohol sharpened the moment and brought it into focus as if they were standing beneath a too-harsh light. She pulled her kimono closer about her body, unintentionally mirroring Marie’s gesture. She had a tendency to do that—mirror people in times of stress or discomfort. It was a skill she’d acquired in her youth, in a feeble attempt to avoid her father’s criticism. If she simply copied what he did, or what Edward or Hilda were doing, it was far less likely that he would punish her for it.

“Zelda?” Marie asked, her arms opening up to offer her a comforting embrace. Zelda moved into the circle of her arms without protest, letting out a long sigh of relief as Marie held her close. “While I know there is nothing I can do about your past, I would like to know if there is anything I can do for you right now, to help you sleep?”

Zelda let this question wash over her. When she and Hilda had slept in this room together, Hilda had simply had to slip a hand into hers, and she felt grounded in reality. But it felt different with Marie—their relationship was different—and it was still so _new_.

“Would it soothe you if I sang for you?”

“I’m not a babe in arms,” Zelda grumbled, but the truth was, she was tired down to her very bones. Exhaustion was taking over, and she would be open to any ideas that would give her a moment’s peace.

And so, Marie led Zelda back to the bed. Their bodies slotted together perfectly, with Marie’s front pressed once again against Zelda’s back, and Zelda curled up, safe in the cradle of Marie’s arms. As Marie sang, Zelda cleared her mind of everything that wasn’t the soothing lilt of Marie’s voice.

_Bonne nuit, cher trésor, ferme tes yeux et dors._

_Laisse ta tête, s’envoler, au creux de ton oreiller_

_Un beau rêve passera, et tu l’attraperas._

_Un beau rêve passera, et tu le retiendras._

Zelda let the sounds wash over her. While she spoke fluent French, she was having trouble translating in her exhausted state. “That’s a pretty melody. What does it mean?”

Marie smiled as she hummed into Zelda’s neck. “It means, ‘go to sleep,’ _mon_ _trésor.”_

Zelda hummed in contentment as Marie began to sing again. Unable to ignore the weight of exhaustion pulling her down, Zelda drifted away, and eventually fell asleep with French in her ears and a smile on her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please share your thoughts if you have a moment to spare! <3
> 
> English translation of the lullaby:   
> Good night, dear treasure, close your eyes and sleep  
> Let your head fly away, in the hollow of your pillow  
> A beautiful dream will pass, and you will catch it  
> A beautiful dream will pass, and you will hold it back


End file.
